Tuesday 2 July 2024

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taking the words out of a poem

at random 

  one  by  one  the


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ping

ping  ping  ping 

as the voices exit

doors bang

the tapestry hangs 

motionless

warp & weft for the threads have left

the moths have gone moon-ways

the golden threads have melted sun-ways


there is a pile of dust on the floorboards


 what (was it) they said  ]


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